The Lore of Orpheus of the Glacier

Born a noble, laid softly into luxurious satin sheets, Lord Belmore of the Valley was no stranger to privilege. His father a Nobel landowner and dedicated tax collector made life hellish for the peasants of the realm, taking more than his share in order to shower his only son with gifts greater than any boy could dream. Belmore’s mother had been taken by the plague of the undead which had swept the valley only one year after the boy’s birth and therefore he never knew a woman’s touch, only an old man’s greed.

As he came of age Belmore learned the ways of his father and fell in stride. He took what he wanted without a thought, gold, horses, land, women. His lust for all things beautiful became known beyond the Valley and throughout the kingdom. His parties were lavish, bacchanals of earthly delights, where guests satisfied their most carnal needs. And yet he was not satisfied.

On the eve of his eighteenth birthday, a sorceress from the Veil appeared to him in a dream. She told Belmore that she would grant him any wish he desired, as she knew it was desire alone that had long plagued the young Lord's heart. His wish to the sorceress was to be as powerful and wealthy as his father, for in his small sphere it was only his father who had more power than he. Upon waking the next morning he heard the cries of the maids through the castle. His father's heart had given out in the night and the Lord of the Valley was dead. Belmore ran to his bedside and held his father's head against his own, begging for forgiveness and cursing the sorceress as he wept.

He left the Kingdom that very day with nothing. Not a horse, not a skin of mead, not a song in his heart. He walked into the dark wood and aimlessly he wandered. Days passed, months, years, and he was lost to the world. Rumors of the mad boy who killed his father swept through the realm. Belmore the greedy, Belmore the broken, and in time even those tales began to fade into dust.

Just as a tree is known by its fruit; a man by his deeds. And Belmore could not face the man he had become. He could not bear to see his reflection in the springs he drank from, nor hear the whispers of his demise in the rustling leaves. Belmore knew he could no longer go on in this world and so he went to the vampire cliffs and there he stood ready to leap to his death.

But he didn’t leap, for the strangest thing occurred. A fox, no larger than a mink, with hair as red as the evening sky appeared at the edge of the tree line. The fox stood on his hind legs and beckoned for Belmore to follow him. Belmore stood still. Once again the fox beaconed and this time gave a small yelp.

Belmore stepped away from the cliffs and followed the fox back into the woods. He hurriedly chased after the small animal struggling to keep up. Just when he thought he had lost the magical creature he stepped into clearing and there he saw the most wonderful vision. A meadow filled with colorful mushrooms unfolded in from of him. The fox dug at the base of one of the mushrooms and broke it free from its earthly bed. Using his nose and paws the small creature rolled the mushroom to Belmore and laid it at his feet. Belmore leaned down and picked up the mushroom, the fungi glowed from the inside out and seemed to breathe its own breath, in and out, matching that of the young man.

The fox once again stood and gave a small yelp, pushing the mushroom upward with his nose, encouraging Belmore to eat. So eat he did. The mushroom did not taste bitter, nor sweet, it was a flavor he had never known, a taste he could not pinpoint nor equate to anything else. He closed his eyes and savored the flavor and when he opened them again the world around him had changed. The colors of the clearing filled his eyes with beauty beyond any he had ever known, the forest danced around him, a unified entity all part of the same life force.

He felt strength in his body and mind, more strength than he had ever known. His eyes saw further, his ears heard more, his senses heightened. He felt capable of anything and empowered as never before. When Belmore looked down the fox had grown to the size of a wolf. He stood tall onto his hind legs, and spoke to Belmore plainly.

“Belmore, your life still has purpose. Your path is not yet at its end. You must strip yourself further, bare your soul to the sky and become the rock and the wind and the ice. You will go to the glacier to find your true meaning. Only the mountain can harness the power you now possess, and there you will learn to wield this power, like the mushroom Wizards of old. You will learn their ways, their songs, their stories and then, and only then, will you find your destiny. Hence forth you will be known as Orpheus of the Glacier.”

And so it was, and so it shall be.

Entered by: 0xC4E7…1bDF and preserved on chain (see transaction)